A dark pall of grief had fallen over the X-Mansion. The shorter November days were dreary with a chill rain, sky low and dark. Now bare of their leaves, the black skeletal branches of trees grasped at the sky like so many scrabbling fingers. Warren Worthington III had departed the mansion in an ambulance. A few days later, after leaving the NYC hospital on his own, he died aboard a private jet in an apparent suicide. The entire household was stunned, the sadness too profound. But there was worse news yet to come.

Hank made good on his offer to take Remy to Harry's for a beer. They were joined by Piotr Rasputin. Flanked by the two oversized men, Remy felt pretty confident that no one was going to criticize his hairstyle or clothes. The conversation was stilted and sad, and Piotr and Remy encouraged Hank to talk about his lost friend. Hank wept into his beer. Hank, Scott, and Bobby would be leaving the following day to return to the X-Factor base of operations. They still had their own students to care for. Jean, particularly grief-stricken over the loss of one of her dearest friends, was staying on at the mansion for now. Ororo and Jean had one another for comfort at least, and Jean would serve as a liaison between X-Factor and the X-Men.

When Remy, Hank, and Piotr returned to the School, it was to find the place in turmoil. Scott had hastily departed for the airport. He'd received a phone call from the police in Anchorage, Alaska. His wife Madelyne and their infant son had died, also in a plane crash. Hank and Bobby immediately departed for the City, thinking to talk to the students about the sudden and tragic deaths in their family, the departure of their leader. There was much weeping in the main sitting area. Remy felt waves of nausea, the single beer he'd had at Harry's was not sitting well at all. Of course, he felt horrible for Scott, but there was also his own gnawing guilt, the abandonment of his own...wife. Hard to think of her as that anymore, given what he'd done these past few years. And what would he do if he came to find out something had happened to her and he wasn't there? If he could have prevented it somehow, or at least just have been by her side?

Then there was also the guilt of having contributed to Warren's death. He'd blown the poor man's wing off, hadn't he, the catalyst for his depression? Remy's instincts told him he should run and hide, but he forced himself into the parlor with the rest of the grieving X-Folks. When Rogue crushed him in a hug, he half felt he'd made the right choice, but then all he could imagine was BellaDonna, like Maddie, destroyed in a tragic accident, and him having failed her utterly.

He sat on the sofa beside Rogue, and she cried into the shoulder of his jacket. "He shoulda been there for her," she was moaning and Remy felt like he'd rather her stab him in the heart with a knife. "It's not right, it's so unfair. It's just not fair!"

"It coulda been him dead along wit' them, too," Remy tried, but his excuse fell flat. "You're right, it's not fair. It's very wrong."

"Christopher was just a baby!" Rogue moaned. "Poor Maddie. She was all alone."

Remy believed any kind of torture would be less painful than this.

"Ve can pray for them," Kurt said from the doorway. Kitty was pushing Kurt, seated in a wheelchair, into the room. He was holding a Holy Bible in his hand, his finger marking a place amidst the Book's pages.

Kurt considered his selected passage for a moment, then spoke: "This is a prayer, Assurance of God's Protection, from Book of Psalms, Chapter 91. 'He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday...If you make the Most High your dwelling...then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone….'Because he loves me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.' Amen."

"Thank you, Kurt," Kitty said. She had taken a seat beside Piotr, and was holding both his and Kurt's free hand.

Jean was on the far side of the sofa, a space between herself and Remy and Rogue. Ororo was seated on the floor in front of Jean, holding the other woman's hand on her shoulder. Logan was in a desk chair, staring at a blank point in space with his elbows on his knees. He was chewing absently on an unlit cigar. Elisabeth stood leaning against the wall just behind him. Magnus was standing between the doors leading to the kitchen, the rest of the New Mutants clustered to the rear of the sitting room, sprawled on the floor or in chairs, looking despondent. Looking at the senior X-Men in their grief and potentially seeing their future there.

Feeling like an intruder on the X-Family's grief, but trapped as he was with Rogue sitting on the hem of his coat and her arms around his waist, Remy hummed to himself nervously, wishing for a cigarette or a deck of cards to busy himself with.

"Ah, so you know ze tune," Kurt observed.

"Hm?" Remy glanced over at the elven man.

"On Eagle's Wings," Kurt said, and launched into song. Unlike Remy, he had a wider vocal range and could stay in key. "You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord..Who abide in His shadow for life...Say to the Lord, 'My refuge, my rock in whom I trust!' And He will raise you up...on eagles' wings...Bear you on...the breath of dawn...Make you to shine like the sun! And hold you in the palm...of His hand!"

Remy smiled wearlily and looked away, staring at the back of the room at nothing in particular. His gaze passed over Magnus, who was looking in his and Rogue's direction. Remy tunelessly hummed along with Kurt as he began the next verse.

"Y'know, y'can sing along, sugah," Rogue said quietly.

"Think I'd prefer to lissen dis time, chère," he said into the white stripe in her hair.

"Ah guess there's always a first time," she murmured. Remy let himself smile.

"Don't get too used ta it," he replied. She laughed a little, through tears.

Next time: Gambit makes groceries...and a new friend.